It's got 120 calories! 25 grams of protein! Only 2 grams of sugar!

Only 57% OF YOUR DAILY SODIUM INTAKE PER SERVING!

...thus ends my brief foray into the world of beef-jerky addiction. [sigh] And I was really starting to enjoy myself... curse the involuntary movements that cause my eyes to scan nutrition labels!
... No, for serious! (See this - this is my serious face!)

Well, you can't see it, but it's a pretty grim expression, I'll have you know.

Reading the information on the back... used to be mere curiosity. When I was much younger, I couldn't care less what I was putting into my body (oh, that could be taken in so many awful ways) food-wise, as long as it was delicious and I could get away with it. Fig Newtons? Screw serving size, I'd eat a whole sleeve of 'em. (A bad example - is anyone able to stop eating those things once they've had one? I thought not.)

On a similar note, Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it On" just came on my stereo. I agree Marvin... Fig Newtons are worthy of orgasmic-taste-bud-loving. Now, if only my brother had not COMPLETELY CLEANED OUT MY ENTIRE FIG NEWTON STASH, I too, could get it on. For now, I'll continue to sip my coffee ("because it is bitter, and because it is my heart...") and plan a stop at the convenience store later.

In any case - back to the nutrition information and away from my now-all-consuming Fig Newton Craving. Through middle school, I could have three ice-cream bars for lunch and not bat an eyelid. Coca-Cola probably ran through my veins in stead of blood - after sophomore year of high school, while in Germany, I literally went through an entire case of 1 liters... by... my... self. It literally replaced water - if I awoke in the middle of the night feeling hot and thirsty, I'd stumble groggily down to the basement and grab myself a bottle and chug.
... they *used* to have crack in there, right? Past-tense?
After field hockey practice, my sister and I would head to the local Starbucks and deplete our bank accounts by buying the biggest, most sugar packed frozen drink that we could think of... at *least* three times a week. And then go home and eat the scrumptious meal that my parents had prepared, and go back to the freezer for dessert. I figured as long as I was part of the sports teams, I could eat / drink how-much-of whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

... then my mom started pointing out nutrition info, or passing me random bits of data.
Did I know that the Coke I consumed (Coca-Cola, *cough*) had ___ grams of sugar in it? That drinking a can a day would cause me to gain 10 pounds in a year - not counting in everything else I ate or drank?
Did I realize that I was getting older and my metabolism was going to slow down? That I wouldn't be able to use the excuse that my body could process most things without problem?
Did it occur to me that Starbucks frappucino's did have a calorie count - some over 600? (whoops).
Did I even know what the word "moderation" meant?
... and etc. It continues today, except that I've become such a health nut that the subjects and word choices have changed a bit.
Do I really need 12 servings of fruit a day?
Did I understand that it was okay to indulge a little bit in order to prevent sudden fits of binge eating?
... Was I really binge-eating with Kashi cereal?!

99% of the time, I owe my mom a thank you note for making me aware of my own eating habits. However... that 1%... I feel that I've become slightly neurotic about my nutrition labels. No doubt that I'm exponentially better off - I'm constantly aware of what goes in my body and why. I won't eat fast-food, and Starbucks hasn't touched my savings account in quite a long time. I look for meals and snacks that are going to make me feel better - not only bodily-wise, but even mentally.
... the problem is the "indulge yourself every once in a while" bit. I can't help but feel guilty the majority of the times that I do - and if I haven't exercised that day, for example, it's completely out of the question. (Note - I will not resort to drastic measures. Purging is .... well, it's a sickness. I'm out for feeling better, not destroying my body in the process of feeling good.) ... Which is where the nutrition labels come in. Part of me wishes I could completely ignore them at least once or twice a day, just enjoy the treat, and move on. Instead, I scour the sugar content, or fat percentage... for someone who wants to eventually retire to a life of baking sweet-goodness all day, this could be emotionally scarring stuff.

I figure I'm still better off than where I was in say, the Coked-up middle school era and the whipped-cream and chocolate syrup dominated days of high school... I'd just like to see a little more middle ground. I'm getting better at it, but I excel at extremes.